


Seeing Sense

by Ook



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Azazel mocks you all whilst kissing his boyfriend, Captivity, Charles is a BAMF, Emma is so done with all these idiots, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik needs a boot to the head, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Raven you fool, Sensory Deprivation, Well done Janos!, Well done Sean!, kinkmeme prompt, mangos are the best fruit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma didn't want to work with Erik, so Erik decided kidnapping <s>his boyfriend</s> Charles Xavier and holding him using a power suppressing collar would give hinm time to persaude Charles- gently, of course!- to Erik's school of thought re human-mutant relations. Because every group of mutants needs a telepath.<br/>What he didn't know, and neither did anyone else, (apart from Charles) is that Charles' telepathy is intricately connected with his other senses; suppress his telepathy and he is deaf and blind...</p><p> </p><p>  This is going to go <i>so</i> well, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes! I have added another WIP to the pile! I promise it's the last one. :) It's the last thing I had on the kink meme- now everything is at AO3.  
> I have about a third of this written, and will post it up in bits during this week. It's been ignored for almost a year, I am _so_ sorry.

Erik was trying not to gloat as he opened the door that would lead him to Charles’s cell. Azazel had snatched the young professor from his hotel room whilst he was sleeping, slapping the telepathic dampener onto Charles’s neck before he’d even woken up. Magneto had ordered him left him in solitary confinement to soften his resistance, with rations and water left in the cell. That had been two days ago. Charles would be glas to see a familliar face, now. Erik was wearing Magneto’s helmet; so he didn’t bother trying to repress his feelings of satisfaction. Soon they would confront each other as they had done at Cuba; only this time he hoped he could show Charles the way, lead him into an accord with Erik’ goals. 

No. _Magneto’s_ goals. Not Erik’s. Erik was a ghost from the past, a mindless, angry fool. Magneto was the future. He had Charles right where he wanted him, within hand's reach. Charles would not shut him out this time, could not simply let him leave and go back to hiding his great mansion again. Couuld not ignore him. Charles Xavier was in his grasp. Finally.

He entered the bleak room that Azazel had dropped Charles into after kidnapping him. It held very little. A bucket toilet sat in one corner, a table in another carried bottles of water and bread. A simple cot stood against the far wall. That was all, for now. Charles would get better food and finer surroundings as he earned them. Doubtless by then the stubborn fool would appreciate them more. Magneto was prepared to bet the professor had never suffered true deprivation in his life before. Erik remembered the fine, if lifeless mansion he’d been allowed to inhabit so briefly. No, his old friend could never have known real hunger or fear, as a child.

“Well, Charles, I was hoping it would not come to this.” He said, mock jovially. Charles did not look up or acknowledge him. He stayed sitting comfortably on the cot, his back braced against the concrete behind him. Erik’s lips thinned. So. Charles was going to be stubborn, was he?  
Well, he wasn’t the only one who could play at that game.  
“Come, come, Charles, surely you can’t be ignoring me? After all we’ve been through together? Almost eagerly, he awaited Charles’ response. Charles was silent. 

Magneto gave him credit for his self control. 

If he didn’t know better, he would swear Charles thought himself alone in his cell. He waved a hand, and a chair arose out of the metal floor. He draped his cape carefully over it and sat. Charles cocked his head slightly, and then went back to sitting in silence. Time passed. Magneto sighed. Charles did not respond.

Eventually, Charles moved. He stumbled off the bed, and proceeded to stagger to the nearest wall. He proceeded to walk, limping badly, around and around the cell, ignoring the man in the cape completely. He moved awkwardly, supporting himself against the concrete with one scratched and grimy hand. Erik recognised the signs of a man walking off muscle cramps. A wave of guilt washed through him as he remembered: Charles’ injury was Erik’s fault. If _only_ he’d chosen to stop the bullets from that damn CIA bitch’s gun, instead of arrogantly brushing them away, like so many metal flies, that day. 

_No._ Magneto thinks. _Charles attacked me first_. If Charles hadn’t resorted to violence to get his own way over the missiles, we would have been fine. If Charles had just done the right thing, stayed down, out of the way, he would never have been hurt. But the missiles would have exploded, and now he can see, that wouldn’t have been a tactical move towards mutant supremacy. WWIII would have shattered many of the structures and destroyed resources mutants needed. 

“You were right, you know.” He says conversationally, at last. Charles doesn’t react. Charles simply keeps on walking. “I was mad with triumph, after Shaw’s death. I didn’t think that letting those missiles explode would have been more than completing Shaw’s last goal for him.”  
Charles keeps on walking. When he is truly staggering, he lurches back to the cot, and sinks down on it in his original position. He sits. Erik sits. Silence. 

Eventually, Magneto gives up on him, and leaves. He returns the chair into the floor as he does. 

Charles can’t see a thing. He can’t hear anything, either. He exists in a soundless black bubble. He chokes down a hysterical giggle at the picture that metaphor creates; a tiny cloud of back drifting around the room, with his hands and feet sticking out of it. They stick out in his imagination, because he still has his sense of touch, even if that’s about all the telepathic damping collar has left him with. It’s a poor illustration, anyway; he can’t see anything, but anyone who comes into his cell can certainly see him. 

He hopes the others at the mansion know he’s missing, not delayed. He had slipped away without telling anyone, on the trail of a new mutant, but he’d left a note, after all. He’d included a likely return date and everything. Why haven’t they deduced he’d been kidnapped yet? 

Possibly because not enough time has passed? He can’t tell day from night, like this. Time slides strangely; sometimes he thinks he’s been here days; other times he thinks it may only be a matter of hours. No good guessing from the number of visitors; people could be staring at him right now, and Charles wouldn’t know. 

There is food and water on the table he discovered by bruising his good leg on it. He has drunk, but when he tried to eat more than a few bites, his throat closed up and his stomach knotted. This situation is too close, too perfectly similar to his worst childhood experiences. Only the pain of his bruises persuaded Charles he was not trapped in the old nightmare again. 

Charles thinks he feels the air move, and automatically he tries to listen harder, before remembering. The starved mind plays tricks on itself. He has to be careful. The human brain reacts very badly to sensory deprivation. Hallucinations, delusions, insanity- they all await him, if his captors, who ever they are, don’t relent soon. Charles represses the urge to pull on the collar around his throat again. If he is being watched, he refuses to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much he hates it. He shifts on the cot. His leg is cramping again. In a minute he’ll get up and walk- stumble- round the edges of his cell until it loosens up again. 

In a minute. Or two. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riptide would like to know why Erik thinks he makes a good janitor. Raven wants to know when Charles will start talking. Erik thinks he knows everything anyway.
> 
> Charles knows he must not let himself go mad.

Well?” Mystique fell on Magneto as soon as he exited Charles’ cell. She had agreed, as long as he wasn’t hurt, to leave her brother’s treatment up to him.  
“No progress yet. He is stubborn, your brother.” Magneto said, affecting unconcern.  
“Yes, he is.” Her face softened, and she smiled in remembrance

“But I’m sure he’ll warm up to us. To the cause.” She made a wry face.  
“He never really was cold.”  
“You know what I mean. With Emma refusing to work with us, we need a telepath.” He said, trying to reason with her gently. Emma had refused to stick with the brotherhood, for some reason. She had located and confirmed the dampening collar, and then she’d disappeared, swanning off to god knew where. And after Magneto had made rescuing her his first action. Ungrateful bitch. Perhaps that was a characteristic of telepaths in general.

“Yeah. I just don’t want him to hate me- us.” Her blue face was pinched and anxious.  
Awkwardly, he put his arm around her shoulder, in rough comfort. She sank against him, wordlessly. They stood for a moment in shared silence.  
“He’ll come round.” Erik said eventually, reassuringly.  
“You think?”  
“I know what I’m doing.” She looked at him doubtfully. “Trust me.”  
“Always.” She nodded.

Riptide moved into the room, carrying an empty bucket. He cocked his head at the pair of them.  
“Slopping out duty?” The mute mutant nodded. “I’m sorry, the next time I go in, I’ll remember to take it away with me. I don’t have to touch it, after all.” Riptide grinned.  
“Let me know if he says anything.” Mystique said, worriedly. Riptide looked at her, for a long moment, before nodding. He took the key from Magneto, and went into the cell, whistling. Erik could see, over his shoulder that Charles had not moved at all.

When Riptide came back out, he looked anxious.   
“What?” barked Magneto. Riptide set down the dirty bucket and made a displeased face. He gestured to his mouth.  
“He’s complaining about the menu?” How typical of his dear professor. Magneto snorted. Riptide shook his head.  
“Not eating.” He husked, quietly. Talking was difficult for the wind wielder, and he tended to do so as little as possible. Mystique bit her lip nervously  
“Maybe we should-”  
“Charles can afford to skip a few meals. He’ll eat when he’s hungry.” Magneto said. 

Mystique still looked worried.  
“If he starts starving himself seriously, I’ll hold him down and you can pour it down his throat.”Mystique glared at him, and stamped away. Riptide slapped his hand to his forehead in dismay or disbelief.  
“What?” Erik said, indignantly. He wasn’t going to let Charles hurt himself with his stubbornness. Riptide shook his head and moved away with the bucket.

 

Charles is not going mad. He mustn’t. He has too many people relying on him. A little voice whispers: Erik relied on you. Raven relied on you. Look at what they did next. Yes, he thinks, left him bleeding on a beach in Cuba. That’s not the point. Charles is a telepath. A very powerful telepath. He has _no idea_ what he could do, what he would be capable of doing, to others, if he went crazy. He’s reasonably sure he’d be generous with any hallucinations or delusions he had, for a start. Things would only get worse from there.

Of course, if he never gets this damn collar off, that’s a moot point anyway. Charles recognised it; at least it’s function, after he woke up. His father, and Kurt, had been so fascinated with little Charles’ abilities, they’d come up with all kinds of wonderful games and tests. It hadn’t taken long for them to realise that without his telepathy Charles can’t see or hear, either. They’d never worked out why. Charles had gotten too hysterical when his father was alive, for them to continue, and after he died and Kurt had married Sharon, he’d only been interested in using the knowledge to punish Charles with, from time to time. 

His first aggressive use of his telepathy had been to make both Kurt and Cain forget Charles’ vulnerabilities. Cain had thought it hilarious, that his stepbrother was still afraid of the dark, of silence, of being shut in a cupboard. Until he forgot, and stopped.  
Charles had learned to conquer his panic, to hold still and silent when he wanted to scream and cry, but he never truly grew used to it before he made Cain leave him alone. 

His leg ached again. Charles shifted position slightly, but that did not help. Soon he would have to start walking again, stretch out his leg. In a way the pain was a relief, because it tethered him to reality in a way nothing else seemed to, at the moment. It came to something when he was glad of his muscle spasms because they gave him sensory information that confirmed he was alive and awake. He’d scratched himself bloody, bitten through his lips before, trying to establish that. Charles sighed. Then he tensed. The cot jolted as it was shoved sideways. 

Someone was in the cell with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Janos and a handy mango, Erik finds out what he's been making Charles endure. So does Raven. Azazel is a good boyfriend.

Riptide thought they were all crazy. Even he and his beloved demon had been caught up in the madness. They’d been unable to get away from Shaw’s insanity, and now they were being sucked into the event horizon of Magneto’s relationship with Charles Xavier and his sister. _Madness_. Still, at least the professor was never any trouble. Just sat there, like a doll, while Riptide brought fresh water and swapped out the stale bread. For all Magneto’s promises about the slop bucket, he still had to change that too. Janos did not blame Charles. The man could hardly choose where he pissed.

This time, Riptide had a present. The telepath had become increasingly gaunt, and Riptide didn’t like it. They were supposed to be persuading him to join them; how keeping him in a box and feeding him on bread and water would do that, Riptide didn’t know. Azazel knew of his lover's fondness for mangoes, and had picked up a crate of them, passing through India the other day. Riptide had sacrificed one to the cause, the cause of feeding Magneto’s professor before the poor fool realised the threats of force feeding Magneto had shouted at him the last time he’d visited were entirely genuine.

He sat down next to the professor, who barely moved. Then Riptide placed the mango in his hand, and Charles reacted as if it had been a live coal. He gasped, and lurched sideways, bumping into Riptide. He jumped the other way, and curled up with his arms over his head, twitching. Riptide stared. Charles had ignored him, as usual, until Riptide had actually touched him. Then it had been as if he had not realised Janos was actually there, until he’d felt him. He’d reacted with shock and fear, as if grabbed by something in the dark.  
“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Charles was mumbling, rapidly and breathlessly. Riptide touched him on the shoulder, and he froze, instantly. 

“It’s all right.” He rasped. Charles gave no sign of hearing him. It was as if he’d been struck deaf and blind.   
Thinking rapidly, he scooped up the mango. He sat down next to Charles, carefully, but heavily. Charles tensed, as the cot moved under his weight. Gently, Riptide took his hand. Charles did not try to pull away. His fingers closed around Riptides’ as if they were a lifeline.

 

Someone was holding his hand. Charles wanted to cry. He wasn’t alone. The other person was one of his captors, but still. He had a guide down here in the depths, another hand that connected to another body that meant Charles wasn’t trapped in his own head. He hoped.  
“I can’t hear you.” He rasped. Ouch. His throat hurt, after so long not speaking.  
The other squeezed his hand in response. Charles turned it over, palm upwards. The other let him move his hand as he wanted. Carefully, he wrote a question mark with his finger.

Who are you?  
The other squeezed Charles’ hand lightly, and then turned his hand palm upwards in response. And blew on it.   
What?   
He wrote the question mark again and got the same response. Air? Wind? Blowing…  
Charles frowned.  
“ Riptide?” he said, ignoring the pain in his throat. The other squeezed his both hands, gently. Charles moved one hand upwards, feeling for Riptide’s face. Riptide tightened his grip, warningly.  
“Are you… Are you a prisoner too?” Charles said, hopefully. Riptide shook his head, letting Charles’ wandering hand feel the action. 

“Oh.” Charles drooped, sadly. At least someone was talking to him; but now he knew who it was, he knew who had him. Erik. Magneto. Charles put his head in his hands. He’d been going mad, in silence and slow dark, because he’d been kidnapped by one of his former friends. _Why?_  
Riptide was taking his hand again. He was placing something heavy and smooth and rounded in it. Too light to be a stone, solid and firm… a fruit of some sort. He sniffed it. No clues there. He didn’t recognise it.  
“I’ve no idea what this is, my friend.” Riptide took the mango back, and sliced off a chunk with his pocket knife. He put the freshly dripping piece in Charles’ hand. Charles raised it to his mouth, and, cautiously, licked it. There was a brief pause, and then he dropped Riptide’s hands entirely, to focus on the mango completely.

Charles was, if not in heaven, at least in the vicinity. He’d been unable to eat much of the dry bread and anonymous things left on the table, sight unseen, but this, this fruit, was delicious. It was amazing. It was sweet, without being cloying, soft without being slimy, and very juicy. He had no idea what it was. When it was gone, Riptide handed him another.  
“Thank you.” He gasped, at last, and felt the heave and vibration as the mutant sitting next to him laughed, silently. 

As soon as the poor professor had finished the mango he began to tilt, leaning heavily on Riptide, unwilling to feel alone. Janos didn’t mind. His weak voice was not comparable to deafblindness, but still. He, of all people, appreciated what it was like to live without being able to use one of his senses. He put a comforting arm around Charles. Charles pressed his face to Riptide’s jacket, shuddering. 

Janos was in a quandary. He did not want to leave Charles alone in sensory isolation, yet the only way he could find out what was going on was by leaving. He hoped Magneto would be there soon. There was no sound in the cell but Charles’ rasping breathing. He was moving his hands over Jano’s jacket, anchoring himself to another’s presence through touch. Janos let him. His red devil was not the jealous type, and in any case, this was a simple case of comfort.

There was a bang, and the cell door opened, and it became clear that however understanding Azazel might be, Magneto was not.   
“Get your hands off him!” he hissed, as if afraid he’d wake his prisoner  
“There’s not need to be quiet. He can’t hear you.” Janos said, hoarsely.

“What?” Erik yanked Riptide up off the bed by his collar.  
“He is deaf.” Riptide said, calmly.  
“What are you talking about, Riptide?” He scowled. Janos repressed a sigh.  
“He is deaf, and blind.”   
“He’s faking it. Must be.” Magneto shook Charles awake, roughly. Charles made a startled noise, and put his hands out, gropingly. Magneto stepped back, out of reach. Charles’ face fell when he could not touch Janos.   
“Riptide...?” Charles said, uncertainly.

“Stop it.” Magneto roared at him. Charles made no reaction to the sudden shout.

Thoughtfully, Magneto moved his hand slowly, up and down, in front of Charles’ face. Charles didn’t blink. He clapped his hands by Charles’ ear. No reaction. He grabbed Charles by the shoulder, and the professor jumped, startled, and then twisted away, shivering.   
“I told you. Is it the collar? Why did you do that to him?” Riptide said, huskily. Erik’s face went white in horror.  
“The collar…” Magneto stared for a long moment at Charles, who had moved back to sit upright on the cot. Only the paleness of his knuckles where he gripped the blankets tightly showed the telepath’s tension. 

Erik moved to put both his hands on Charles’ shoulders. Charles startled again under the sudden grasp. The metal dampening collar flew into a thousand tiny pieces. Charles gasped, and made a garbled noise that was half scream, half sob. He reeled away, burying his face in the blankets, away from the suddenly dizzying sensory overload. Janos and Erik let him be.

“I... I _think_ I’m awake.” Charles said, eventually ; partly to the blanket, mostly to himself.   
“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m so sorry.” Erik sank to his knees, laying his face against Charles’s shins.   
“E-erik? Am I awake? Are you here?” Charles’ voice was cracked and harsh, a hollow mockery of its usual beautiful tones. “I- I can’t always tell if my telepathy’s been shut down long enough.” This had happened to Charles before? Erik didn’t know whether to feel relieved, that Charles had known what was happening, or aghast, that his… that Charles had endured this horror before. 

“Yes. You’re awake. I’m here. I swear, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Erik said again. Charles sat up, and grabbed for Erik’s hands, dragging the other mutant leader off his knees. He stared, fixedly at the face beneath the helmet. “Janos told me.”  
Janos had to look away from the naked gratitude in Charles bright blue eyes. He glanced at the shaking shoulders of his leader, and said, carefully:  
“I will fetch Mystique.” He left. Something told him Magneto, at least, would not want an audience for this.

 

"What is wrong, my heart?” Riptide waved his devil aside for a moment, and spoke to the blue girl in the room. He was direct and straightforward.  
“Mystique, your brother needs you.” He said, curtly.   
“Oh? Has his majesty deigned to acknowledge the existence of us lesser mortals?” Mystique said, sulkily.   
“Magneto is with him. You should go to them.” Riptide said, curtly, again. Her eyes widened at his tone. She began to look worried. This pleased Riptide, who was a little surprised at how much sympathy he had for the professor, now.   
“What’s happened?” Mystique demanded, urgently.

“Ask your leader. Ask your brother.” Riptide sipped at the glass of ice water Azazel offered him. His throat was beginning to hurt. With an affronted glance, Mystique slipped her way out of the room. Riptide sighed, explosively, and dropped to sit near Azazel, on the couch. After a moment, looking at him with narrowed eyes ,Azazel wound his arms around the wind mover, and pulled him to lie on his chest.  
“Tell me.”  
“He has been deaf, and blind.”  
“I know our esteemed leader notices only what he wishes-“ Riptide shook his head.

“The Professor.” He clarified, quietly.  
“What? How?” Azazel was clearly startled and wary.  
“The collar. Magneto destroyed it.” Riptide waved a hand. “Many small pieces” Azazel sucked in a breath, coiling his tail about Riptide’s wrist. There was a burst of red-tinged darkness, and then they were in Riptide’s favourite safe house, half the world away from their fearless leader, his telepathic prisoner, and his prisoner’s sister.

Riptide quirked a questioning brow at his beloved demon. Normally the red one warned him before flashing them both away from the rest of the team.  
“I do not want to be near an angry telepath, my love. Neither do you. You remember Ms Frost.”  
“The Professor is hardly likely to smite us with his boot.” Riptide moved from his embrace to walk about the room, restlessly. Az chuckled.  
“No, but his mind is vaster than the lovely Emma’s.”  
“He was shocked.”

“The Professor?” Azazel’s tail curled, tightly.  
“Magneto.”  
“You mean he was not intending this?” Azazel said. Riptide shook his head, and then shrugged. Azazel sighed.  
“Truly, the man is a fool, at times. I though he spoke of holding and depriving Charles until the man came to see reason?” This was a plan Azazel had been sceptical of; with reason, it seemed.  
“Of a soft bed, not of sight and hearing!” Riptide stood in front of the window, staring out at the endless sea.

“I do not know why Charles’ agreement is so very important to him.” He concluded. Az said, smilingly, in reply.  
“Because he wants everything of the Professor he can take.” Janos shivered. The demon moved to embrace his lover, murmuring.  
“No, not like that! You know I would not willingly serve a man who took his love by force.”  
“Love? I didn’t know that.” Riptide said, thoughtfully  
“Neither does Magneto” Az grinned.  
“What!?” Riptide found it hard to believe,  
“You know I am very old. I have seen much of the world and its times.” Az smiled, slow and wicked. Riptide felt his heart stutter at the sight. 

“I tell you this: Magneto- Erik- loves Charles. He does not know, and so, neither does the telepath.” Az moved to support Riptide, and the other mutant leaned on him, still staring at the sea. Azazel’s tail moved slowly over Janos’s chest.  
“How is imprisoning someone love?” he said, curiously.  
“It is not. He is, perhaps, afraid of losing. A contest, his love’s regard; what you will. So he attempts to change his beloved’s mind.” Janos could feel Az’s smile at the back of his neck, as well has his hot breath. He shivered again.

“Badly.” He tried to keep the quaver out of his voice  
“Truly.” From the smirk in Azazel’s tone, it was clear he had failed, in that attempt.  
“They will need help.”  
“Hmm. I say we give them a little time alone. Provided they haven’t killed each other, we can return as swiftly as we left.”  
“You think the professor can kill?” Janos felt startled; he had not detected anything murderous in the other mutant, even when he’d startled him with the mango.  
“Usually? No. Now? I think possible.” Az said, calmly. 

“Why?” Janos wondered what his devil had seen that he had not. Azazel chose to misunderstand the question.  
“Because I think we need a little time alone.” He dragged his tail tip down Jan’s face, tracing his jawline lovingly. “Not so?” He whispered into Janos’s ear.  
“Mmm.” He tipped his neck back, allowing Azazel better access to his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation. Confrontation. Goes about as well as you might expect. :)

Mystique stopped outside the cell and took a deep breath. Inside she could hear voices; although she couldn’t tell what they were saying. The tone seemed friendly, though; at least Erik wasn’t roaring at Charles as he had been for the past week. This was going to be hard. She had so much to say to Charles, things she had wanted to say before that night in the kitchen; but her fear of the confrontation due the next day- of Cuba- had led her into pettiness, and she’d gotten angry instead of being able to make Charles see her. 

And then she’d tried getting into Erik’s bed, to see if he would look at her like she was real, and that non-event had been more than a little humiliating. Thank god Magneto was not prone to long, drawn out “it’s not you, it’s me”, emotional heart burnings and angst. She’d offered, he’d said she was too young. When she’d shifted to someone older, he’d told her he never had sex before a mission. He hadn’t said “no” but he had said “not yet.” That had been that. It had saved her pride.

Of course, she hadn’t realised then that Erik seemed to consider himself permanently on a mission, especially after the beach on Cuba. Moira had gotten Charles shot, and then everyone had gone their separate ways. Since then, Mystique had not talked to anyone they’d left behind. She’s still not sure how the boys got Charles off the beach and to a hospital in time to save his leg. 

When Magneto had lost Emma Frost’s co-operation- not long after he’d had her obtain the blueprints for the telepathy blocking collar- he had turned to her for advice. She hadn’t been sure that kidnapping Charles was a good way to open up a conversation with him, but he was not, apparently replying to the letters Erik sent him, and Erik had been absolutely certain their group needed a telepath, for their ultimate mission to succeed.

“It won’t be for long.” He’d said. “Just till he sees reason.” They’d both been sure he would, in time. Raven couldn’t understand how Charles could not see the whole of human nature, as he did, not see the events in Cuba, for what they were, a warning that they needed to prepare for the attacks that would be coming, now. She was sure Charles’ disagreement with Erik’s stance that they should prepare to meet violence with violence, and pre-emptive defence was going to be necessary had mostly been him thinking he knew best, as usual, while he was not actually thinking at all. Until it got him shot.

But then Azazel had actually done it, and things had not gone as planned at all. Her plans to have a good argument with Charles followed by reconciliation as he came to understand what she wanted and needed was not necessarily what he thought she ought to want or need, but she loved him anyway, had been stymied by Charles’ stubborn silence. It had felt like a rejection, to Raven, and it had hurt more than she wanted to acknowledge.

She had wanted the men she loved to be able to work together. And it had seemed as if they weren’t even able to be in the same room unless one of them was forced to be there, so how could they ever get close enough to talk? Mystique shook her head. Riptide had said Charles needed her. She’d never leave her brother in the lurch, even when he was being a bit of a stubborn idiot. She pushed one the door. Magneto nodded to her. He was sitting awkwardly on the bed, with Charles half lying, half leaning against him. He looked anguished. Charles’ eyes were shut.  
“Riptide said-“ She stepped back a pace, pushing down the brief burst of unease at the sight of the collar was in pieces all over the room.  
“What’s going on?”

Charles opened his eyes. They were as blue as ever, but unusually cold and focused.  
“Ah. Hello, Mystique.” He said, quietly.

 

Control over his senses returned slowly. Gradually Charles grew calmer, more convinced that yes; he could see and hear normally again. His brain was no longer playing tricks on him. Erik continued to hug him fiercely, which was quite pleasant, and to babble frantic apologies, which was less so. Charles’ head hurt. He could not understand what Erik- no- what _Magneto_ had wanted to achieve by kidnapping and imprisoning him. He had obviously not intended to hurt him- something Charles was shamefully grateful about- going by the sheer weight of horror visible in his face and voice when he freed Charles from the suppressor.

Charles wished the other man would stop apologising. He was fairly sure the apologies were genuine, but listening to that voice whilst the speaker continued to wear the helmet put a bitter taste in Charles’ mouth. How could he be sorry about hurting Charles, restraining his senses, when he was _**still**_ doing it? Magneto had clearly intended to kidnap Charles, and hold him for some time, de powered. Like a pet, or a dangerous threat to his precious cause. Magneto, who, as Erik, had been imprisoned before, had been prepared to imprison Charles. And his beloved sister had not stopped him. Or had been unable to stop him.

Just then, the afore mentioned sister walked, nervously into his cell. She was in her battle garb of nothing at all; blue as the ocean, or the sky, all over. Charles looked at her, steadily, reminding himself to stay calm, and to shore up his telepathic controls, which were a little unstable.  
“Did you know?” He demanded of her, calmly. Charles wasn’t sure which answer would hurt more.  
“Did I know what?” She looked puzzled. Charles relaxed slightly. She hadn't known. It was more of a relief than he'd anticipated.  
“About the-the collar.” Charles faltered. Erik’s arms tightened around him.  
“I’m so sorry,” Erik murmured again. Charles squeezed his hand, as he struggled to sit more upright.

“Magneto said- I thought-“ she faltered. Charles felt himself frown again.  
“You didn’t know I’m deaf and blind when my telepathy is blocked?” He said, crisply. He’d never told her of that side effect of Kurt’s punishments or his father’s experiments. Perhaps he’d been stupid, but they’d been long over when Raven came into his life.  
“I don’t understand-“ She began again. Charles felt his temper sharpen a notch more.  
“Mystique.” She winced, internally. Her new name on Charles’s lips felt like a blow.  
“That collar didn’t just shut away my telepathy. I have been deaf and blind for what Erik says” the man twitched- “is almost two weeks.” Mystique gasped, in horror surprisingly similar to Erik’s. Charles felt weary, battered by it.  
“Emma didn’t it say did that!”

Emma Frost? Erik- Magneto had gone to the rogue telepath they’d once fought together, for help on trapping and binding him? Charles felt another pang of betrayal at her words. He sat up, moving so he could look at both of them at once. Magneto would not meet his eye. Shame? Caution? The man was still wearing his bloody helmet! Still hiding from Charles, after everything.  
“How could you do this to me?” Charles asked, eventually, as the silence widened and spread.  
“I’m sorry!” Raven cried. Erik mumbled yet another apology. Charles took another deep, careful breath. He didn’t want to lose his temper until he had found out why.  
“No, really, how? Couldn’t you tell something was wrong?” He spat. Erik flinched. Raven made the mistake of trying to justify their actions.  
“I – we thought you were just being stubborn again.”

That was _it_. That was the tipping point. Charles knew he had to leave, now, or he was going to do something he’d probably come to regret, later. He pushed himself away from Erik’s support completely, and stood. He was still a little wobbly.  
“Erik, I need a stick.” He said, firmly. Erik looked bereft as Charles moved out of his arms. Charles tried not to let the expression move him.   
“Are you sure-“ Magneto began. Charles looked at him, and he did not finish the sentence. Mystique moved automatically to help him. He ignored her outstretched arm. She bit her lip.  
“Now, please.” A piece of the metal floor obediently rose up and formed an elegant cane underneath Charles’s hand. He stepped forwards. The cane was the perfect height and the smooth metal handle was perfectly shaped to his hand. Charles sighed. 

Once that trick had delighted and entranced him.  
“Charles, please don’t shut me- us- out you need-“ Magneto said. Charles interrupted him, swiftly.  
“What? Please, tell me, the pair of you, what exactly do I need?” he said, viciously.   
“I-“  
“As for shutting out, may I remind you that _you_ are the one with the blocking helmet, _Magneto_.” Erik flinched back, dropping his gaze to the floor.  
“Charles, please. You’re not well. Let us-“ Raven tried, one last time. Charles stared at her, disbelievingly. She flushed, under his gaze.

“I have no intent of allowing the people who hurt me once attempt either to repeat the action, or to comfort me, thank you.” He continued onwards, out of the cell, back straight, step steady. Raven and Erik watched him go, stricken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles comes home again.

“For the last time Alex, no, no one’s sure of where the Professor is!” Hank repressed the part of him that wanted to do more than snarl, harshly. Alex didn’t help.  
“But Hank! It’s been three weeks! His note said he was going after a new mutant. What of the Prof got hurt?” he persisted. Hank wanted to choke him. He took another deep breath, let it out and said  
“I’ve reported him to the police as a missing person, I’ve asked Moira, and I’ve asked some of the people I worked with before, and no one’s heard a thing!”  
“Yeah , bozo, but-“  
“I don’t know where the Prof is,”   
“Bet you it’s Magneto. Again.” Said Sean, gloomily.

Hank silently recites Pi to the first ten places, in binary. It doesn’t really help. He is as worried as the rest of them; and he has no idea what to do next. Alex wants to follow up his ex-con’s network- Hank knows the Professor would never want that. Hank is still not sure how they got Alex out of prison in the first place. He suspects it wasn’t entirely legal. Moira has explained she could do little to track Charles without alerting the CIA to the fact that she had not had her memory wiped by Charles after the debacle at Cuba. The CIA were far more interested in the brotherhood that Erik had started putting together once he and Raven had liberated Emma Frost.

And another thing, he wonders, crazily, why are both Sean and Alex treating him as if he’s in charge?  
 _-Possibly because you’ve always been my second in command, Hank? -_ A _very familiar_ voice in their heads teases gently. All three of them freeze, instantly.  
“Charles?” Hank says aloud, hopefully.  
 _-Yes.-_  
“Where- “  
 _-I’m walking up the driveway. The rather long driveway. I don’t suppose you could-?-_  
But Sean is already there, racing out of the door like a small, ginger, professor seeking missile.

In the end they all end up in a really awkward group hug, halfway down the drive. Charles is filthy, wearing the ragged ghosts of the clothes he disappeared in. Hank thinks he looks malnourished and pale, and he’s limping along as if he wasn’t able to do his physiotherapy for a while. He’s still grinning like a demented pumpkin, though, so he’s survived whatever the hell happened without too much maiming of the perpetrators being required. Probably. Charles looks a little shaky, under his jaunty mask of “Oh, I just strolled out of there, I’m just fine, thank you so much.”, though. 

Alex and Sean pepper Charles with questions. Charles cheerily avoids answering, babbling about tea and bathing and snacks. Hank steers them all inside and tries to remember his pattern breathing. He wants to rip people’s heads off so badly, he has to calm down, or Charles will never help him ID the people who’ve done this. 

Hank has his suspicions anyway.

 

 

Charles is not sure how his semi triumphant return, lurching up the drive with his new stick for support, has turned into a public bathing session. The boys were plainly not willing to let him out of their sight for the moment. They’re all used to each other shuffling in and out of the bathroom in the morning, but this is a little different. He’s never actually been followed into the bathroom by all of them before. Hank helped out when he was still an invalid, after Cuba, but since Charles grew strong enough to conquer his bed and his bath, he’s being washing and sleeping by himself again.

Now Sean is perched on the cupboard, like a bird, and Alex is sitting on the closed toilet seat. Charles is glad he didn’t protest Sean’s adding bubble bath mixture, earlier. Hank is crouched by the bath, apparently checking the temperature. This is very dedicated of him, seeing as Charles is already in the bath. His scrawny knees poke out of the modesty-protecting foam. Charles regards them sadly. The right knee is covered with the scars from the surgery that preserved Charles’s ability to walk, after Cuba. He’d been quietly proud of how much muscle tone he’d been able to reclaim. A couple of weeks of captivity and poor food, and it’s all gone again.

“Prof. What the hell happened?” Alex’s voice cuts across his mournful reverie.  
“I…” he falters.  
“Yeah, did the new mutant thing pan out?” Sean interrupts, hopefully.  
“Sean>” Hank protests.  
“What? That’s what he said in his note.” Mentally, Charles squares his shoulders. It would have come out eventually, anyway.  
“I never got there. Erik- Magneto had me kidnapped. Azazel…” He trails off. There’s a silence, broken only by Hank turning the taps off. Sean hops down from the cupboard. 

Alex sits up straight.  
“How long? “He demands, quietly.  
“I.. I’m not sure.” Vaguely, Charles looks for the soap. He wants to get rid of all this _muck_  
“You left the house three weeks ago; how long after that did they take you?” Hank says, quietly. There’s no recrimination in his voice or the other’s faces for his dashing off and leaving them in the lurch. Charles is very grateful.  
“I drove all day the first day, and Azazel took me from my hotel room sometime that first night.”  
“Hey, Prof, bend forwards.” Automatically, Charles does so, and then blinks in surprise as Sean briskly starts applying soap to his shoulders. 

Sean is washing his back. That’s… unexpected. Pleasant, though. Charles is well aware he’s grimy. The cell had no washing faculties, or if it did, he had not found them.  
“Sean!” hisses Alex, reprovingly. Hank shifts out of his way.  
“What? I used to do to for my little brothers all the time.” Sean protests. He’s not lying. Hank frowns at Alex, and when Charles says nothing, they stop protesting. Charles can pick up wisps of memory through Sean’s fingertips on his back; little brothers splashing, arguing, playing. It’s as warm and cleansing to his mind as the bath is to his skin.   
“Well, I don’t see any new scars and you don’t have many bruises.” Sean concludes, pouring water over Charles’s back. 

Alex’s eyes narrow. He glances at Sean with respect.  
“Were you looking for them? I told you I was alright.” Charles protests as he lies back in the bath. It feels heavenly, as his tense muscles begin to relax, knot by knot.  
“Yeah, but… you might not have known.” Sean falters  
“Or might not have wanted us to know.” Adds Alex, supportively.  
“Alex is right.” Alex whips his head round to stare at Hank, as he continues “You do have a tendency to hide what you think of as weakness, Professor” 

“I - I’m very sorry.” Charles tries not to think about it, the endless silence and darkness, the final angry scene.  
“Jeeze, what did they do to you Prof? You never agree just like that!” Alex is half incredulous, half angry.   
“Alex!” says Hank, sternly. Alex glares at him, pugnaciously.  
“It’s true!” Charles feels himself begin to tense up again.   
“Hey, do you want to have your hair washed?” Sean asks Charles, breaking the confrontation by ignoring it.  
“Um.” He’d love to, but Charles isn’t sure he could get his hands over his head.

Should do, Man, it looks like you used it for a mop.” Says Alex.  
“Yes please.” Charles concludes. Hank hands Sean a plastic jug. Sean grins his thanks.  
“Did they?” Alex continues, firmly. Sean pours warm water over Charles’s hair.  
“What?” Charles says, slowly.   
“Use you for a mop? Did they *hurt* you?” Charles opens his eyes to three worried faces.  
“Not intentionally…” he starts to say, but his throat closes up, and he has to swallow.  
“Professor?”  
“Yes. They did.” Charles admits, very very quietly.

“What happened?” Alex again. Hank is busy reciting Pi in his head, odd. Sean is gently rubbing shampoo into Charles’ hair. It feels wonderful. It reminds him that he is here, here not there, not trapped and helpless and alone. Charles explains about the accidental sensory deprivation, the isolation of not knowing where he was, or who had him. Of knowing he was going to go crazy. He feels the growing, angry emotions of the others, and hastens to explain: They didn’t know. As soon as they did. Erik freed him. Riptide gave him a mango. It seems to help, a little. Hank goes back to numbers, and Alex bites the side of his thumb, feverishly. Sean simply helps him rinse the soap out of his hair. He stops talking after he recounts Azazel’s returning him to Westchester.

Charles shivers a little. The bathwater is growing cool. Charles had been wondering about the transition between bath and bed, but in the end it turns out to be simple. Alex held up a bath sheet, and Hank scooped him into it and carried him to his bedroom, as if he was a child or fresh from surgery again. It’s rather nice. Then there is his bed, his own dear sweet bed. Alex flees, muttering about sandwiches and soup. Charles yawns. He is hungry, but he’s also very tired now. Hank follows Alex, muttering about rehabilitation and physiotherapy. Inwardly, Charles winces, preparing himself for a fun time in the gym, later.

“Prof,” Sean says, as he drifts out the door, folding the towel. “You know you’re home, now, right?” Charles nods. He does.   
“Yes, Sean. Thank you.” His eyes shut, and snap open again. The darkness is not easy; Charles has to fight a creeping fear that it will still be there after he opens his eyes.  
“Good. We’ve got you.” Sean offers. He snaps on a lamp on a sidetable, apparently without thinking about it, and disappears, along with the towel and Charles’s grubby clothes.

Charles lies in the soft light lets himself relax. He is alone in the room, but not in the house. Other minds drift about in the distance; the boys- _his friends_ \- going about their business. It's wonderful. Charles has to blink quite hard, to stop the tears. He is among friends. Friends who will never want to hurt him, blind him, and lock him away. Friends who don’t shut him out.. He lets out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling. He is safe. His eyes droop shut. The darkness is comforting, now he is here.

Charles is finally home


	6. Chapter 6

A week went by. Azazel and Riptide returned to find Mystique and Magneto heartbroken, but otherwise apparently unharmed. Erik went about with a face even more like iron than usual, and Mystique ate all the ice cream and slammed more doors. Business as usual. They moved safe houses, twice, Magneto not wanting Professor X to find them, he said. Azazel thought it was more likely he wanted any excuse possible other than seething hatred or indifference for Charles and his X Men not responding to his kidnapping. Mystique had said nothing, only packed her duffle with red eyes and a frustrated look.

Azazel didn’t tell either of them that he had been responsible for Charles’ return to his house. A sick telepath was no more someone he wanted to be near than an angry one. When he and Janos had returned from their tryst to find the Professor passed out on Riptide’s bed in the safe house, Azazel had dropped him back into Westchester before Riptide had had to ask him. And now, Magneto had come up with _this_. Frustrated or frightened by Charles’ silence, He had decided to write to him. Mystique had done the same. But the great Magneto had decided that these letters were too sensitive and revealing to go by ordinary post. 

Riptide thought this was possibly because they might actually contain the words “I’m sorry”, not a phrase Magneto usually admitted to knowing, let a one using. Grimly, Azazel squared his shoulders. He had letters to deliver. Deliver to a wounded telepath, in a house that also held three other powerful mutants, none of whom would be particularly glad to see him. Still. He could teleport. He was quick, and deadly. He had outlived many people who had desired his death. Riptide looked at him, with humour in his eyes. He quirked a questioning brow.  
“Because I do not chose to disobey a leader I have chosen, unless I decide to follow him no longer, my love. I have not yet reached that point with our young and glorious leader.” Riptide snorted. Azazel shrugged, cheerily.  
“And because I have trust in the weakness of the Professor’s will-to-kill, also.”

Riptide frowned.  
“Da, I know unwillingness to kill is not always weakness.” Azazel grumbled.  
“Take me with you?” he rasped.  
“Why?” Azazel said, startled.  
“He was not well, when he left us.” Riptide deliberately widened his eyes, pleadingly.  
“You want to see if your young scholar is recovered.” Azazel said suspiciously .Riptide smiled, quietly. He tapped his heart, and then his red devil's, pointedly. Azazel smiled at him, and said, quietly.  
“I do not wish to risk your safety, my heart.” Riptide glared and slapped the back of Azazel’s head. He was able to keep himself safe; and he did not wish his protective, possessive demon to forget that.  
“Fine! I risk myself, I risk, you, I risk everything, if you wish it!” Azazel said, hastily. He held out a hand to his lover, and pulled him in close for a final kiss before they teleported to Westchester.

 

 

Charles stared helplessly up at the ceiling and felt a gasping hatred for everyone and everything. A manic chorus rang in his ears.  
“Come on, Professor! Three more! You can do it!”   
Specifically, Charles hated his friends; and also sit ups, right now. He gritted his teeth. This was the last set today.  
“One!” he wheezed, as he forced himself upright, and back down onto the mat. Sean cheered. Alex whooped. Hank continued to stare at him, encouragingly.  
“Two more.” Charles wished he had the energy to flip him off. He barely had the energy to lift his head, let alone move his fingers.   
“Water.” Charles pleaded. Anything for a break. 

Hank held the water bottle to his mouth and let him sip. Once. Then he held the bottle up in front of Charles, tauntingly.  
“Two!” Charles sat up to reach for the bottle. Hank let him have it.  
“Come on, Prof! One more!” Yelled Alex, heartlessly.  
“can’t.” He gasped, feebly.  
“Yes, you can. Come on, this is the last one.” Hank was a merciless, merciless man.  
“Dying..” Charles wheezed, pitifully. Hank was unmoved.  
“No you’re not. Come on. If you’ve air to talk, you’ve air to do your last sit up.” Beast was a sadist. Groaning, Charles forced himself through one more

“Three! Aaargh!”

He collapsed, limply on the mat.  
“That was great, Prof!” Sean’s eyes were bright and cheerful, even though, Charles knew, he’d been flying and then running for two hours already. He felt Hank take his pulse, as Sean and Alex approached, full of disgusting cheerfulness and youthful energy. It was unfair.  
“Yeah, you’ll be back to your full strength in no time!” said Alex, gruffly encouraging.  
Charles restrained himself from crushing their minds, and contented himself with just wheezing. Air was good. He liked air. And lying still. One didn’t appreciate such things until one lost them, he supposed.

Far too soon, Hank gestured at the other two, and they gently lifted him to his feet, wrapping their arms over his shoulders, to help him towards the showers, before he stiffened up again. Sean was holding his new walking stick, ready for Charles’s hand, when the Professor decided he was able to walk on his own again. It was a very useful stick; made from light, hollow, waterproof metal, perfectly shaped to his hand and for his height. Charles couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon anything Erik made for him; even when it came with such bad memories, both the accidental bullet that made it necessary and the kidnapping and isolation where he had been given it.

Charles was crawling downstairs after his shower, planning on lying down in his study and relaxing with a few good books, when he felt the sudden burst of two familiar minds appearing, somewhere in the grounds. He tensed, mentally alerting Hank at the same time.  
 _-What do you want? Why are you here?-_ He sent, cautiously.  
 _-Greetings, Professor-_ , said Riptide, into his head. _-I have come to accompany my Azazel; he has come to bring you post.-_ Ah. Azazel’s mind was a dark and alien place, but Charles could read the wariness the other mutant was feeling and the irritation with Magneto he was trying not to feel.

Involuntarily, Charles felt himself smile.  
 _-Well, come in then. I’ll warn the others.-_  
 _-Ah, boys?-_ Charles said, gently.  
 _-Yes, Professor?-_ Their minds answered as one.  
 _-We’re about to have visitors. Please can you not attack them? I suspect they come in peace, or at least, in the idea of making peace._ He flashes a quick impression of their visitors. 

Hank growled, mentally, at the sight of Azazel.  
 _-No promises,-_ thought Alex, darkly. He started calculating which of the mansion’s walls are load bearing, and which he can blast their visitors through. Charles was touched at the young man’s protectiveness.  
 _-Huh?-_ Sean thought at Alex. Charles relayed the query and response, helpfully.  
 _They don’t start anything, I- we won’t finish it.-_ Alex said, fiercely.  
 _-Yeah. -_ Sean, agreed, cheerfully. _-You want tea in your study, Prof? –_ Charles blinked  
 _-Ah, yes, please. In a little while, perhaps._ He murmured. Goodness. Threats and hospitality in the same thought.

Charles sat in his study, on the one chair that combined both comfort and ease of escape in its design. He leant the stick against the side. He let the two visitors approach through the house without comment. They must have used their feet for the last few yards. Interesting.  
“Please, sit.” Charles said, crisply. Azazel sat, flicking his tail around him as he did so. Riptide glanced at the books on the shelves before doing the same. A short silence fell.   
“Thank you for letting me know you were here.” He said, neutrally, at last. Riptide smiled, shyly, and Azazel said, simply:  
“I do not startle telepaths if I can avoid it.”  
“Just kidnap them.” Charles was surprised at the amount on rancour in his voice. Azazel winced, slightly.

“I cannot say I did not do that. Nor can I even claim that had I known the collar would restrict you so, I would not have put it on you.” Riptide hit his shoulder, remonstrating with his lover. Azazel covered his hand with his own, and continued “But, I did not know, and I am sorry for it.” Charles drew in a deep breath. Azazel had not known.   
“Are you going to say you were only following orders, then?” Riptide gasped in protest.  
“No.” Azazel said, calmly. “I take responsibility for all my actions. I chose to follow your … Magneto-“  
"Oh, Erik is certainly not my Magneto”. Charles quipped. His eyes blurred. Riptide snorted.  
“He is certainly not anyone else’s.” Azazel grinned. “We would know.”  
“Yes, well.” Charles forced down his heartache. “You said you had letters?”

Azazel handed them over. Charles took them, looking at the handwriting. One from Ra- Mystique, one from Erik. He toyed with the idea of ripping them up, or refusing to read them. Why should he bother to communicate with people who hurt him?

But Charles desperately wanted to know _why_. Why Erik had snatched him, what he’d wanted, why his sister had helped. Slowly, he looked at the one from Erik, glancing at Azazel as he did so.  
“I was asked to stay and see if you had any reply.” The demon featured mutant offered, apologetically.  
“Oh, very well. The bar’s in the corner.” Charles waved at it vaguely. Riptide stood, and headed there, immediately. He tipped his head at Charles, inquiringly. “No, thank you.”  
He’d almost lost his taste for drink, after Cuba. The medications Charles had been taking for his injuries had not reacted well with alcohol at all.

Charles opened Erik’s letter, and read.

~~My dear.~~

~~No. Start again.~~

~~Dear Professor Xavier.~~

No!

~~Dear Charles~~

~~Please, please~~

Charles,  
 ~~I’m so sorry, my friend.~~ ~~I swear~~  
I do not ask you to forgive me what happened. I never meant you to be hurt. The isolation you experienced was unintentional. I hope you believe me. Ms Frost did not inform us that the collar would have that effect on you. We should have realised all was not well long before Riptide did.

If you or Hank have any questions re the functioning of the device, I can send you the blue prints, or a copy of the device itself. It is not complex to build. Azazel can convey any letter or answer you ~~want~~ might send in response.

Please allow me to apologise once again. ~~for your suffering~~. ~~in my care.~~ I trust you will recover soon.

 

Yours faithfully ~~always sincerely~~

~~Mag~~

Erik Lensherr.

 

Numbly, he opened Raven’s letter next.

 ~~Charlie~~  
Dear Charles.  
How are you? Did you get back OK? I’m so sorry that the collar did that to you, I had no idea. Emma didn’t warn us, ~~the bitch~~. She’s a terrible person. Sorry. I know you hate me swearing like you hate me drinking, or naked.

Sorry. That’s not important right now. I just want you to know whatever happens, you’re my brother, Charles, the brother who picked me up we were both little, and I’ll never forget that. ~~Why couldn’t we~~ I’m sorry and I love you.

I know you were pretty angry when you walked out and I understand that, but can you reply to this please? I’m so worried about you. ~~Mag~~ Erik says you’ll be fine, you’ve got the boys and that Moira person, but I still worry.

 ~~Love~~ Your sister,

 ~~Mystique~~ Raven.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles reads his letters and writes a reply.

Charles read the letters one after the other. He stopped. He read them again. Well, it was nice to know his sister still loved him, and worried about him even if she was apparently so desirous of being her own person that she left her brother to follow another man; a man ready to tell her she was more beautiful naked. Charles was aware he was not quite being fair to Raven- but, after two weeks of sensory isolation- he did not entirely feel like being fair. She had visited him, had seen his desperate state, but had not, apparently, been able to see past her own assumptions and recognise her apparently beloved brother was suffering.

And the letter from the man she had followed? Well, the offer of the blue prints was interesting. Hank would certainly find them intriguing. Charles found he couldn’t contemplate looking at them without shuddering, inwardly. Powerlessness and helplessness were terrible things, he thought. Still, he could feel Erik’s regret- and his stiff necked, stubborn pride- breathe through every word so painfully written. Charles wished he could be sure Erik regretted the attempt he had made to force his old friend to change his mind; rather than the consequences and failure of that attempt.

His lips twisted, wryly. He could feel Janos and Azreal’s anxieties rise. To be fair to them, the both knew precisely how powerful a telepath he was, and had still come into his presence willingly. And not all of their fears were for themselves, he realised. Oh.  
Janos was also worried about his well being. Charles willed himself to smile, reassuringly. Judging by their expressions, it was not a complete success.  
“Well, Raven has asked me for a reply; so I shall certainly put pen to paper for her- can I ask you to wait while I write this? I hate to turn you into postmen.”

Azazel smiled. Janos’ face lightened, and his shoulders relaxed. It was good to be dealing with another mutant, who did not seek to exploit their skills thoughtlessly. Charles felt their relaxation and tried to use it to increase his own. It was not a complete success. Azazel stood, and Janos rose with him.  
“Perhaps you would prefer privacy for your writing?” He smiled, gently. Janos nodded, quietly. Charles blinked.  
“I- yes, yes I would. Thank you, that is very considerate. Would you care for a cup of tea, or something?”  
“I think the grounds are very beautiful at this time of year.” Azazel said, after a pause. Janos nodded, firmly. 

“Ah. Please feel free to walk wherever you wish. I’ll alert the boys.” Charles said. The two of them smiled, and Charles was just about to offer directions, when they both vanished in the usual puff of smoke. Charles grinned at his own startlement. He flashed off a quick update of events to the others in the house, and was faintly amused to detect all the boys in one place, next door. Beast had prevented them from trying to listen in, but only just. Sean was still clutching the glass he had hoped to use, and Alex was pacing, restlessly. His smile faded as he turned to contemplate his desk. Charles opened a drawer, and removed letter paper, and envelopes. He laid them out neatly, and stared a little more. He picked up his fountain pen, and put it down again. Then he began the first rough draft, blinking hard, 

Dear ~~Raven Mystique~~ Raven.

Thank you for your concern. ~~Why didn’t~~ Yes, I got back, as you put it, fine. ~~Hank~~. The others were a little concerned, but they are taking very good care of me; although the exercises they force on me in the gym feel ~~like torture~~ as if this is not so.

Love, 

Charles.

P.S. I will always be your brother, dearest, and I feel glad to know you will always be my sister.

 

That left Erik. Inwardly, Charles quailed. Still, he could hardly write a letter to Raven and not respond to Erik’s letter, however much he didn’t want to think or be aware of his feelings towards Erik and what he had done to or for Charles in the past.

 

Erik,

 ~~I cannot yet~~  
I trust you are well. It is too soon to talk about what you intended ~~my kidnapping~~ to do; rather than what actually happened. I am recovering steadily, according to Hank.

I accept your statement that you were unaware of the effect the collar was having on me. I would certainly appreciate a copy of the blue prints- Hank will be fascinated. ~~There may come a time when we need~~

If we come across youngsters who are having trouble controlling themselves their powers; such a device, if voluntarily assumed, might be useful.

 

Sincerely,

Charles Xavier.

 

Charles fretted. Letter writing was always hard. It required the writer to confront- perhaps just in passing- his or her own inner words and attempt to translate them to the outer world. Even as a child, at boarding school, he had found the process too slow and too revealing. These letters he was writing were so short. Still, he did not wish to keep Azazel and Janos waiting. The letters conveyed everything he felt able to say on paper. Slowly, Charles took up a fresh sheet of notepaper and began copying out a neat version of each letter. He was a little surprised Raven and Magneto had not done the same. Although reading the crumpled, crossed out versions did reveal more of their thoughts and intentions than their final selection of words had. Hmm. Had Azazel gone as far as to present him with discarded first drafts rather than the finished items? 

Face to face, it might be easier to say everything Charles felt, if Magneto would take off his damn helmet, anyway. But Charles doubted anything other than a direct and specific invitation would bring them to Westchester again, and nothing was likely make them interested in what he had to say


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is here to try and boot some sense into Erik and Raven.

Erik stared at the neatly written letter. Charles’ handwriting seemed to mock him, with its elegant curves and precisely placed punctuation.  
“So restrained, as ever, Charles.” He murmured, before swinging his burning glance back up to Azazel. “This was all he wrote?” He shook the letter at Az. “Just one quick note; no shouting, no swearing? He wrote this?”  
“Yes.” Azazel said, blandly. “He did.” He gave his leader a sardonic look. “Also a letter for Mystique.”  
“Huh.” Erik sank back into his chair and stared, moodily, at his hands. Azazel stifled a sigh, and gave him an ironic bow before vanishing. Erik reached up to scratch under the helmet, which felt heavier today than before.

Why had Charles sent him such a cold, short note? He, Magneto, Erik, had apologised, hadn’t he? Had offered him blueprints of the device in question? What more did Charles want? Frustrated, Erik threw himself back in his chair, which creaked a protest.  
But then again… Why should Charles be warm to him? Magneto had- Erik had- hurt him. With that damned bullet. Because of Erik, Charles would need a cane and a leg brace for the rest of his life. He’d been lucky not to lose the leg completely, the surgeon had thought, according to Emma. Erik closed his eyes, forcing away the memory of Charles, deafblind and helpless, stumbling round and round the cell like a rat in a cage. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt Charles, he’d only wanted to talk to him. Get the man to listen, and _think_ about what Magneto had to say. A sense of unease crept over him. Charles had always been stubborn. One only had to look at his sister to see it was a shared trait. Erik would never have had a chance to explain Magneto’s stance on humans without that cell. Would never have been able to persuade Charles to change his mind. And Charles was a _telepath_. If he hadn’t been wearing that collar, he could have made Janos release him without straining a neuron. Could have made Erik believe in him; trust in his view point again, just like he had done before Cuba. Before the helmet, and the bullet changed everything.

No. NO, that was unfair. Charles had never- would never- do that to him. He respected other’s minds, even when Erik wished he wouldn’t. He would not force Erik to change his mind. Magneto had nothing to fear from Charles. Nothing at all. He had been right, on the beach, about the missiles. He had saved Erik from making a terrible mistake. Erik had only wanted to return the favour. As long as he trusted in humans, Charles was not safe. Erik could never trust someone who wasn’t safe. Who needed protecting from themselves.  
“Perhaps I should never have hoped for more.” He remarked, aloud.  
“Perhaps you’re right, sugar.” An amused voice said, behind him. Erik whirled so fast the chair nearly fell over.  
“Emma? What are you doing here?” 

 

“Saving your ass, sweetie. Again.” The White Queen smiled at him.

 

So.” Emma said, calmly, to Raven, a few hours later. “Please explain exactly what the two of you _thought_ you were doing?” She raised an eyebrow “Erik I can understand. The fearless leader doesn’t think all that far ahead. But you, sugar?” Emma was disappointed in Mystique. She thought that the girl had more brains, at least where her brother was concerned.  
“What are you doing here? And why do you care, anyway?” Mystique said, sulkily. Emma repressed the urge to shake the girl until her teeth fell out, or she grew up, whichever came first. It was hard. Emma admitted to herself; she had feelings about sibling loyalty. Christian, her own brother, was probably the only family member she trusted at all.

Emma took a deep breath. “We’re the only mutants I know about, we won’t survive if we hate each other.” She said, calmly. There were so many humans, so few mutants. Did they all have nothing better to do than play endless games of civil war with each other? There were better things to do.  
“That’s what I- we were trying to do!” Raven protested. Emma blinked, incredulously.  
“You wanted to make sure Charles and his boys didn’t hate you by kidnapping him, sticking him in a cell and suppressing his powers?” she said, slowly. Raven flushed purple-blue. Emma resisted the urge to shout at her.

“He’d have come round eventually.” Raven flared. “It was that collar! We just didn’t know he couldn’t hear or see-“  
“Hmm.” Emma said, neutrally. She hadn’t known about that side effect. Obviously her abilities and Charles’ were more divergent than she had thought. She had thought, seeing as Charles’ range and depth of telepathy was so much greater than hers, that the collar was unlikely to stop him for long. Then again, when it had been placed on her, Emma had been able to escape the collar easily, by going into her diamond-form and shattering it. That was not an option Charles would ever have. Perhaps she hadn’t thought it through properly, either. 

Mystique was still talking.  
“Erik- Magneto- was going to persuade him to see things our way! And now he can’t because Charles is probably never going to want to see me- us- again.” She sniffed. Emma ignored the emotional blathering for the meat of the matter.  
“How was imprisoning Charles going to persuade him?” She asked, curiously. Raven hesitated and then said, slowly.  
“Well, they were going to debate things. Play chess.” Raven gesticulated vaguely.  
“Play chess, or “play chess”?” Emma said, amused.  
“Actual chess. You know, when Charles had, had agreed a bit, advance out of the cell...”

“Advance?” Emma said, slowly, a chill creeping over her.  
“Yes, you know, start him with nothing and then nicer stuff when he changes his mind. Erik said-“ Emma sighed. She was going to get very tired of the words “Erik said”, she could tell. Then the full import of Mystique’s words sank in  
“When he changed his- idiot girl, do you mean Erik was hoping to induce Stockholm Syndrome? On a _telepath_?” Really. This was complete ridiculousness. She was going to take Janos and Azazel and disappear to Hawaii for a year. Raven appeared to ignore the “Idiot girl” comment as she went on talking.

“No, he just wanted Charles to agree with him-“  
“Honey.” Emma said, slowly. “Sometimes you have to just agree to disagree. You’re his sister, you must have done that before.” _Please let them have done that before_ , Emma begged the fates. _Please._  
“No.” Raven said, defiantly. “It would have worked! Charles- I-“ She wavered, uncertainly and fell silent.  
“Why me?” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, delicately. “Right. I’m going to have another conversation with the great Magneto, and then that’s it. You can all look after yourselves again.” Emma had no patience for these blundering fools. There was a silence.

“Emma?” Raven asked, quietly  
“Yes?” Emma began to count to ten. In Sanskrit.  
“Will he be… you know, alright again? After…” Again, Raven trailed off, unwilling to verbalise her fears.  
“He’s your brother.” Emma said, acidly, “Shouldn’t you be asking him?”  
“I wrote him a letter.” Raven mumbled. Emma sighed.  
“It’s a start. Go from there,” A thought struck her, and she added “If he replies.”  
“He did, but it’s so short and-“ Raven felt very uncomfortable. She hated this. If only Charles had been more _reasonable_.

“Raven. Honey.” Emma’s voice was sharp. “You can’t ask Charles to think or believe or behave differently just because it makes you uncomfortable.”  
“Stay out of my head!” Raven said. Emma snorted.  
“Agree to disagree, or just try talking to him, no kidnapping necessary. That’s really the only option you’ve got” She stood, elegant as ever, “Oh, and Raven? I’d start by maybe trying to say sorry.” She left, leaving Raven staring gape mouthed

 

“So. Magneto.” Emma said, icily. “You’re going to explain to me why using behaviour modification on your sweetie seemed like a good idea.”  
“Charles is not my sweet- like that.” Magneto said, dismissively.  
“Oh, honey, for you? I think he just might be.” Emma purred.  
“You think so?” Erik said, before he could stop himself, but received no answer.  
“Back to business. I got a message from Janos, and Angel persuaded me it was time I came and found out what you were doing to each other, with that collar.” Emma said. Erik raised an eyebrow. Emma stared him down.

“I told you. I needed to talk to him Charles- Charles wasn’t going to listen unless I made him.” Magneto shifted his eyes away from Emma’s gaze. He was wearing the helmet. She couldn’t read his mind.  
“He said so? If I’d known you were planning on keeping him prisoner-“ She began, before he interrupted.  
“No, but you know Charles; he’s stubborn.” His voice was oddly fond as he spoke of Charles.  
“Not the only one.” Emma murmured to herself. Erik’s eyes narrowed.  
“Besides, none of us knew what it was doing to him. Why didn’t you-“

Emma came very close to losing her temper. So, now this whole thing was _her_ fault?  
“One, I didn’t know that it would have that effect on Charles: his telepathy is different to mine. Two, I did not know you were planning on doing more than wanting to talk to him without being forced to leave!”  
Emma paused, and took a number of deep breaths. Erik watched her, face almost as expressionless as his mind was, under the helmet.  
“Three, I thought you were _smarter_ than that." She paused. Erik frowned at her. “What made you think changing his mind for him would help, let alone work?” Emma sounded amused, and curious.

“It had to work!” Erik said, loudly. “I- We need him on our side- his power to find-”  
“We? Sugar, you have your head up your ass about this. Just because he disagrees with you, doesn’t make Charles Xavier your enemy.”  
“He is _not_ my enemy!” Magneto roared at the White Queen. She remained unimpressed.  
“No? You kidnap him, try and brainwash him- that’s how you treat your friends? Honey, I’m glad you don’t like me that much!” Emma was laughing, now, as Erik’s face flickered from fury to horror, and back again.  
“It wasn’t brainwashing! I was just going to keep him till he saw reason!” Erik protested.  
“And if he’d never seen it?” Emma said, scathingly.

Erik was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the pre written chapters; so there'll be somewhat of a pause before I get on to finishing this as Subject E and Deep Space Mining call to me, as does Getting Better. And the third Token story. Sorry about that.


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